


How Brian Lost Something Precious

by a_variant_of_roar



Series: Colours [2]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Colour Mates, M/M, Mates, Soul Mates AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-04 11:05:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11553888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_variant_of_roar/pseuds/a_variant_of_roar
Summary: Brian did not believe in soul mates, in colours, fairy tales made up by Heterosexuals. He doesn't, until he does.





	1. Chapter 1

Brian had no reason to look for more that night. He had gotten bored of the night club, but felt some loyalty to the place. It was the first place where he had truly felt that he…belonged. Like a king stepping into his throne. Like something felt right.  
So, he had no reason to look for more, but he had, and he his vision flickered in a twisted filter. Like the thing that he saw when he was in a drug induced haze. Like Colors.  
He had never believed in that soul-mate thing, especially not that you see colors when you meet yours. The theory is that Cones, some vestigial photoreceptors get activated when the perfect mate is in field of view. So, obviously curious, Brian looked around for someone new.  
He saw a shock of colored hair. He couldn’t seem to put his finger on the exact name, he had skipped those dumb classes where they taught them things that he didn’t believe in, like religion. Both those ideas are made up by Heterosexual dumbasses who fear Homosexuality, worse than the Black Plague.  
But somehow, here it was, a guy, a g u y made him see color. How’s that, Heterosexuals. But fuck, a soul-mate? Being tied down? Brian knew that that possibility was scary, very scary. The guy wouldn’t even like a play-boy. Hell, he might not even be gay. But fuck, he was curious. How would sex with the fated one be like?  
=  
The answer is amazing, his stamina, his body, his hole, it was all so addicting. He wanted more. And the bastard just kept teasing him, and sandwiched between the most disgusting two old men, and fuck, he couldn’t keep his hands to himself, not away from that amazing young man he had met, whose virginity he took, and dear Lord, being someone’s first hadn’t felt so good before, nor had been having their second time, or third, or tenth. He soon lost count. Justin asked about his colors a couple of times. Brian said that he must have seen someone else. Justin said that he didn’t sound convincing. He said that if he wanted a soul-mate, he should go and be a heterosexual, go and fuck a lady. Justin snorted and went back to soaping up Brian’s crotch, deftly avoiding the important parts and kissing him funny.  
He had been learning about his colors too. It helped in his advertising ideas. The bright shock of hair that Justin has is yellow, golden, the color of the sun. Justin’s eye is blue, aquamarine, the color of the clearest waters in pictures that come through sometimes, deep lakes, that kind of thing. Justin’s skin is pale, but not the bad kind. The kind that makes him bruise that skin with kisses and bites and hickeys. He’s learning, his secretary doesn’t comment on the new development. She herself lost hers, and her colors flicker in sometimes, in dull, dull tones, making her remember what she lost.  
Brian’s also flicker, when he has had a bad day and Justin didn’t come from his classes. The worst had been when Justin h- after the prom night. When he was still recovering, and doctors didn’t know if he would make it or not, each time his colors flickered out, he wondered if this was the time, this was the time he lost something p r e c i o u s , so precious to him. They hadn’t even had enough time together. Brian would sometimes stare at the white scarf drenched in Justin’s blood, red, blood red, then rusty red as the blood stains grew older, and watch fearfully as the color flickered in and out, in and out, in and out…  
=  
Domestic. He hated being domestic. He hated that the colors meant that he belonged to someone, that he was obliged to belong to someone. Other than the fact that they were the first homosexual couple in color soul-mates history, putting aside the fact that he should ask someone to document it, flash it into all the homophobic people he had met in his life, he was bound by the same ideals he hated, again. He revolted, retaliated, whatever you want to call it, but flaunting that he didn’t do attached, didn’t do relationships, was free by bringing home trick after trick and flaunting in Justin’s face- He acted like a child and he knew it, but he liked the way Justin’s smile wavered and his step faltered whenever he chanced upon a scene with him in undress and a trick beneath him. He positively f e l t Justin’s confidence in his being his soul-mate chip away. It felt exhilarating in how disgusted he felt, corrupting a mind so absolutely full of faith.  
But then Justin left, and it wasn’t worth it anymore. All he wanted was to drag him back. He fucked around, but seeing Justin do the same thing? It hurt. For Brian, fucking is a way of establishing dominance. For Justin, it’s making love.  
Hence the “there is nothing noble in being poor” project. It is better than Lindsay’s anyway. Brian Kinney begging? Never. But some nights he wondered, maybe it would be worth it after all? Those nights he just reminisced, bringing a substitute in to live through another moment with some he had so stubbornly, f o o l i s h l y lost. He fumed, he stocked, he simmered, but he would not beg. He had a pride, and he would not change it for anything, a n y t h i n g, not even someone who bore with his childish insecurities. Justin still came back, came home.  
=  
But then Brian nearly lost him again. His colours adamantly stayed while he searched for Justin in the rubble of the place that held his loyalty, the place that had been somewhere he belonged as he was. He searched and scrambled, hoping that the colours staying meant Justin was not dying. When he finally found him, he knew that there was absolutely nothing he wouldn't do to have him as long as possible. He would change if that would keep Justin from leaving. The thought of marriage that both seemed hilarious and daunting now made absolute sense. But then he asked for his hand in marriage and Justin laughed. He changed, he confessed to colours, and Justin still remained sceptical.  
Then Brian gave him what he himself had wanted all those years ago, before when he wasn't as confident. When he acted that he was, but was so insecure, so much that he would talk to himself in the mirror to increase his confidence. A fairy tale house with someone who loved him with everything he had. He was happy, delighted, ecstatic to change for him, if Justin would just stay in return.  
=  
But then he found out what Justin was sacrificing to be with Brian, his career, his life, his passion, and he was livid! Why would Justin do that when he was trying so hard to give the world to him? Was he trying to undo all his work? Was he not happy? All his buried insecurities reared their ugly heads again.  
Brian confronted Justin, only to be told that he was doing this b e c a u s e Brian had changed, and wasn't that a blow to the head, one of concussion proportions, maybe even haemorrhage proportions. If changing meant Justin wouldn't be happy, then him being happy was more important that him being near.  
And that is how Brian Kenny lost something precious to him, one of those very few in number.  
=  



	2. Chapter 2

=  
The owner of Kinnetic would stare at the white scarf. It would hold no importance to his secretory, none to anyone passing by, none to any who accidently see it before a meeting or presentation, or see him wearing it despite not it matching anything on a now rare night out.  
To his friends, it is the noose he wanted to hang in. To his closest friend, it is a souvenir from a time before he knew that something could be so precious, he would live for it, the threads once soaked in blood of a random recurring trick, now soaked in sweat and are frayed from frequent use and the previous wearer is the reason why the current one gets out of bed.  
He wasn't awake for most of the transition, but he knows that Brian changed after the bombing of his club. Dear God, he nearly got married just after! But, years later, now that he is closer to retirement, his only motivation for working anymore is not to get better, he is the best, got nowhere to go but down, down from being the best advertising firm in the state. But rather, it is one artist, very young for his fame, but neither new, nor unknown. The same artist who has exhibitions all over the country, and a few outside. The one that they don't see, but for a few hours a month.  
And the reason is also nothing selfless like showing him that he still can or anything near, rather it is that once he can, as soon as he can, he simply wishes pass on his more demanding work to someone younger, and work while travelling.  
Travelling with the said artist to be exact.


End file.
